


Letters to Superman

by PrincessMariana



Series: Dark-ish Batfam [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce is definitely not jealous, Dick Grayson is Robin, Fluff, Gen, Get well letters, Hurt Clark Kent, Protective Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23924737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessMariana/pseuds/PrincessMariana
Summary: Bruce makes the mistake of telling Dick that Superman was in recovery from kryptonite poisoning. Alfred suggests that Dick write Superman a get well note. Bruce cannot say no to Dick. Superman finds Robin adorable. Dick is a Superman fanboy. Bruce is not jealous.(The second fic of my dark-ish batfam series, but it's baby Robin cuteness, with a side of grumpy Batman.)
Relationships: Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Clark Kent
Series: Dark-ish Batfam [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724602
Comments: 27
Kudos: 451





	Letters to Superman

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be kind of dark, but my brain wanted fluff. So here's some fluff. I'll try harder next time.

It all started when Bruce made the mistake of mentioning to Dick that Superman was recovering from a recent mission. “But he’s Superman!” Dick said around a cookie.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Bruce said sternly. “Superman ingested kryptonite. It will take at least a week for him to recuperate.”

Dick’s face crumpled the same way it had when his class snake, Mr. Wiggles, had to be taken to the vet because of a respiratory infection. Dick had moped all week until the vet had declared Mr. Wiggles healthy. “Oh,” Dick said. “Poor Superman.”

“He will be fine, Dick,” Bruce said, trying to sound calm and reassuring as he desperately tried to catch Alfred’s eye. Alfred was _much_ better than Bruce at cheering Dick up.

Alfred, from where he was dusting some nearby cases, raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you could write him a get-well letter, Master Dick.”

Bruce wanted to bury his head in his hands and _groan_ , because he was trying to wean Dick off his Superman and Justice League obsession, _not_ encourage it – but Dick brightened. “That’s a swell idea! I could draw him a picture too! Bruce, can I?”

It was hard to resist Dick’s wide, begging eyes, but Bruce could be strong. “It’s too risky. He could trace your handwriting or fingerprints.”

Dick deflated. He looked down and forlornly swung his feet back and forth. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Perhaps Bruce couldn’t be that strong. “But,” he continued, despite himself and the alarm bells ringing in his head, “an email couldn’t hurt.”

Dick’s head swung up, and he whooped, wide grin back in place. “Awesome!”

Bruce knew he was going to regret this.

+++

Clark hated bedrest. Before becoming Superman, he’d never needed it. He now understood why, during his childhood, his school friends had complained about being sick. He was bored, and his whole body _ached._ He was recuperating in the Watchtower’s medical wing, because he needed the high-tech sunlamp, so at least he could stay near the action.

His teammates visited often to keep him company, which he appreciated. He’d even made some new friends with the newer members. Diana said that his Justice League-themed pajamas made him more approachable. Still, he wasn’t expecting _Batman_ to visit. Superman and Batman made a good team, and Batman was invaluable in the League, but they weren’t exactly friends. Clark wasn’t sure Batman even _had_ friends.

But Ma and Pa had raised him to be kind and courteous, so Clark set aside the book he’d been reading and gave Batman a friendly smile. Batman had entrusted him with Robin’s safety, so he probably wasn’t here to kill him. Except, Robin _had_ been hurt under Clark’s watch.

As the silence between the two of them continued, and Clark’s thoughts began to race, Clark’s smile became strained. Batman seemed content just to glare, but Clark didn’t last long. “Hey, Batman. What brings you here?”

Batman’s glare intensified, and he thrust a tablet at Clark. Cautiously, Clark took it. “Robin heard you were unwell,” Batman said coldly.

That was…unexpected. Clark looked at the tablet and couldn’t help but grin.

_Dear Mr. Superman,_

_Batman said you are hurt. I saw you on TV fighting those bad monsters. It was really, really, really cool!!! I am sorry you got hurt. Thank you for saving me when I was at the Watchtower. I hope you get better!!!_

_Sincerely,_

_Robin_

_P.S. I asked Batman to give you a hug from me. He said no. :(_

Since Batman was still glowering at him, Clark wisely chose not to laugh. “That’s very sweet of him,” he said.

Clark loved receiving letters and drawings from kids. He felt both humbled and charmed that children looked up to him and thought that he was “really, really, really cool.” Clark’s heart was especially warmed that _Robin_ had written him. They’d only spent a few hours together, but Clark had immediately liked him. The child was an adorable bundle of energy and carefree laughter. Clark, and many of the other Leaguers, were surprised that he worked with _Batman_. Or maybe it was more surprising that Batman chose to mentor _Robin_.

Clark handed the tablet back. “Tell him thank you from me. I really appreciate it.” He paused for a moment, before reaching over to the notepad and pen on the night table next to his bed. “Actually, could I write him back?”

Batman’s jaw tightened in obvious displeasure. After a few strained seconds of silence, he gritted out, “Fine.”

“Great! It’ll take just a moment.”

Very aware that Batman could change his mind at any moment, Clark scribbled down a few sentences and then carefully tore the page out of the notepad. He folded it up and offered it to Batman. “Thanks!”

Batman caught his wrist. With Clark’s body weakened by the kryptonite, the grip almost _hurt_. Clark swallowed thickly, and he reminded himself that Batman wouldn’t kill him in League headquarters. Probably.

“If I found out you’re taking advantage of Robin’s admiration of you to hurt either him or me, you will regret ever donning that cape,” Batman growled.

Clark believed him. He nodded, afraid that if he tried to speak, he’d say something wrong, and Batman _would_ actually kill him. He didn’t doubt the other man had the means.

Batman’s eyes narrowed briefly before he snatched the paper from Clark and released his wrist. On silent footsteps, he left the room. Clark exhaled and leaned his head back against the wire headboard. He made a mental note that threatening or hurting Robin was a mistake no one should ever make.

+++

_Dear Robin,_

_Thank you for your note! It was very kind of you. I really appreciate that you’re thinking of me. I was just reading an article about your adventures in Gotham. I think you’re pretty cool too! I loved hanging out with you at the Watchtower._

_Feel free to write me anytime!_

_Sincerely,_

_Superman_

_P.S. How about you give Batman that hug instead?_

Dick waited eagerly on one of the Batcave’s exposed ceiling steel beams, feet dangling. It was one of his favorite vantage points. “Bruce!” Dick hollered gleefully when Bruce came into view, finally back from patrol. “Catch me!”

Dick launched himself off the beam and at Bruce. Without a moment of hesitation, Bruce reached out and caught him. Dick wrapped his arms and legs around Bruce. The Kevlar was awkward to hug, but the familiarity of it was comfortable.

Bruce sighed in fond exasperation, adjusting to support Dick better. “Alfred gave you the note, then?”

“Uh-huh,” Dick said cheerfully. “He told me to give you a hug. I give you hugs all the time, so I thought I’d add some pizazz!”

(They’d learned “pizazz” in school yesterday, and it was quickly becoming his favorite word, much to Alfred’s disdain.)

“And _I_ thought Alfred and I had rules against jumping from the ceiling without a grappling hook and proper supervision.” Bruce’s voice sounded more amused than angry.

“But pizazz, Bruce! Pizazz!” Dick said.

“I am sure that even Superman won’t be impressed to hear in your next letter that you risked your life for _pizazz_.”

Dick immediately opened his mouth to reply before he registered what Bruce had said. Moving his hands to grip Bruce’s shoulder to keep himself steady, he leaned back so they face-to-face and stared accusingly at Bruce. “You read the note! You know he said I could write back.”

Bruce’s cowl was off, so Dick could see him raise an eyebrow. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

Dick huffed in fake annoyance. “It’s _rude_ to read someone else’s mail.”

“I’m Batman,” Bruce retorted with a smirk.

“That doesn’t mean you can be all snoopy!” Dick said.

“It’s part of the job description, actually.”

Well, he couldn’t argue with that. “Wait a sec,” Dick said. “What do you mean in my next letter? You’re going to let me write him back?”

Bruce began to walk towards the changing room, Dick still in his arms. “There will be rules.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “There are _always_ rules with you.”

“I will proofread all of your letters to make sure you don’t reveal anything linking to your secret identity. I will also read all of Superman’s replies. If at any point I think he’s manipulating you or your correspondence presents a risk, the letters end. Understood?” He set Dick down on one of the benches and began to change out of his suit.

Dick had snuck into Batcave wearing his pajamas, not his Robin suit, so he waited patiently on the bench, swinging his legs back in forth. He hated sitting still. “No privacy. No fun. Gotcha. I didn’t think you’d let me write him again.”

Bruce ruffled his hair fondly. “I wouldn’t keep you from talking to your favorite superhero.”

“Superman isn’t my favorite superhero!” Dick said. Bruce was being silly. “Batman is. _Obviously_.”

Bruce’s hands fumbled with the fabric belt on his housecoat. He didn’t say anything as he securely finished tying it. Dick watched curiously. Maybe it hadn’t been obvious to Bruce. Sure, Superman had been his favorite when he’d lived with the circus, but then Batman had brought Zucco to justice and had given Dick a new family to belong to. He’d been handed everything in life, but he still fought for kids like Dick. Of course Batman was his favorite.

When Bruce finished putting away his suit, Dick lifted his arms to be carried again. “Aren’t you too old for this?” Bruce said, but he bent down so that Dick could wrap himself around Bruce again.

“Nuh-huh,” Dick said stubbornly. “Never.”

“Do you know who _my_ favorite superhero is?” Bruce asked as they left the room.

“No,” Dick said. He scrunched up his nose, thinking about the superheroes he’d observed at the Watchtower. “Green Arrow?”

Bruce laughed. “No, Robin is. _Obviously._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it. :)  
> Young Dick Grayson is adorable, and I love him dearly.


End file.
